


I Don't Believe In Forever (I Still Wanna Give It A Try)

by glitterandgin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: And a little unrequited love, Anders is a terrible wingman frankly, M/M, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Romance, but it won't be a huge thing, i'm not a good cook i don't know cooking terms, not so much slow-burn as a medium simmer maybe?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:55:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10685523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandgin/pseuds/glitterandgin
Summary: Or, "The Warden Commander asks Anders to deliver a gift, and Anders is oblivious at all the worst times."





	1. Chapter 1

“I need a favour.”

Anders stopped dangling the piece of twine for Ser Pounce-a-Lot and looked up at the Warden Commander. Normally unflappable, Sidona’s lips were drawn tight, and she picked at her cuticles--a nervous habit he’d only seen her display in the proximity of Templars. 

“What is it? We’re not going back in the Deep Roads, are we? Maker, don’t tell me there are  _ more _ broodmothers. I still can’t get the smell out of my robes,” Anders said, twitching his hand as Ser Pounce clawed impatiently at the string. 

Sidona laughed, the sound sharper than usual. That was bad news. If it wasn’t broodmothers, then what had her so anxious? What could possibly be worse than venturing under miles and miles of rock with no guarantee of safe return? She pulled a parcel out of her pack and said, “I need you to give this to Nathaniel. But don’t make a big deal of it! Can you do this?”

Anders blinked and took the package. It had been meticulously wrapped in blue-and-white checked paper and tied with a matching bow. “Is this a joke? Are you going to hide behind a pillar and watch me get punched in the nose when he opens this?”

“Not at all!” she said, the tips of her pointed ears reddening with emotion. “I simply… wish to maintain a professional distance. Will you deliver the parcel?”

“Yes?” he said, his tone uncomfortably similar to the sound of a creaky stair. He cleared his throat and said, in a steadier tone, “Yes. I’ll, ah, go do that. You can count on me, Commander.”

She scoffed and said, “Please, Anders. We are friends, no? Call me Sidona. Oh! And do tell me what he thinks of the gift.”

Sidona bustled off, tossing a vague excuse about having to check on the potion supply over her shoulder. 

Anders squinted at the gift, half-expecting it to burst into flames at any moment. Sidona hardly seemed the type to play pranks, but what other explanation was there? He shrugged. Might as well get this over with and move on as quickly as possible. 

He found Nathaniel sitting in the courtyard, his expression more peaceful than Anders could remember seeing. When he saw Anders approaching, he smiled. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

Anders looked at the sky as though just alerted to its existence. “Oh. Yes. I have something for you.”

Nathaniel took the package from him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in confusion. He tugged one end of the ribbon, unraveling the bow in a neat motion and letting the paper fall onto his lap to reveal a pair of custom archery gloves with the Howe crest cross-stitched on the backs. His eyes and smile widened. “They’re lovely, Anders. Thank you.”

“The Commander--” Anders began, his words cut off abruptly as Nathaniel stood and embraced him tightly. After the initial shock wore off, Anders found himself returning the hug. Nathaniel was a surprisingly good hugger, and whatever soap he used smelled amazing. When was the last time he’d been hugged? The answer didn’t come readily, which meant it was buried in a deliberately ignored memory. 

Nathaniel squeezed him tighter before letting go and stepping away. Had his eyes always been so warm? They looked like someone had spun stormclouds into cotton. “You were saying something about the Commander?”

Anders blinked rapidly, forcing himself to break eye contact.  _ The Commander asked me to give them to you _ . It was a simple sentence; why couldn’t he get the words out? “She asked me to see her when I was done here. Catch you later?”

“Of course,” Nathaniel said, squeezing Anders’ shoulder. Maker, when did it get so warm? 

Anders made his way back to Sidona on legs that didn’t quite feel like they belonged to him. 

“What did he say?”

“He liked them,” Anders said, still clinging to the residual warmth of the hug. “A lot, actually. Did you have those made for him?”

“That’s not important,” Sidona said, and the speed of her response told Anders everything he needed to know. 

“You like him,” he blurted out without considering the ramifications of doing so. 

Sidona’s cheeks flushed, and she opened and closed her mouth several times before actually responding. “That--that’s preposterous! I simply want my Wardens equipped with the best armour.”

“When do I get fancy gauntlets?” Anders said. “Can I have cats embroidered on them? Ooh, or what about a nice pair of boots?”

“Eugh!” Sidona threw her hands in the air, her cheeks redder than ever. “Fine. I’ll admit Nathaniel has… a certain charm, but my gift has nothing to do with that. End of conversation.”

“Does that mean I’m getting new boots?” Anders called after her, snickering when she shook her head in exasperation as she left.

So, the Commander had a crush on Nathaniel. Why did his stomach lurch when he thought about that? Sidona was free to court who she liked. Even when he’d flirted with her, he’d always treated it as more of a light-hearted diversion than an actual romantic advance, and she knew as much. It was ridiculous to be jealous of Nathaniel. But even after he came to that conclusion, his stomach refused to settle until late in the night, when he fell asleep with the memory of Nathaniel’s embrace lingering in his mind.

#

“Are you busy?” Nathaniel said, intercepting Anders in the corridor the next afternoon.

Anders’ heart picked up--a reaction to Nathaniel’s sudden appearance, of course. He considered his plans for the day and said, “Not even a bit. Why?”

“I thought we could take a walk,” Nathaniel said with a shrug. “The weather’s nice; we might as well take advantage of it while it lasts.”

“I’d love to,” Anders said, his chest tightening when Nathaniel’s hand brushed against his. 

It was unusually warm for so early in the year, but the temperature cooled as they ventured into the woods surrounding Vigil’s Keep.  For the first few minutes, the only sounds came from the wind and the occasional caw of an unseen bird. 

“My family owned these lands, you know.” Despite being next to him, Nathaniel’s voice sounded distant, as though Anders was eavesdropping on a monologue. “I used to play in the forest as a boy. Once I caught a toad here and hid it in Delilah’s wardrobe. She poured sand in my bed for that.”

Anders laughed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to enjoy the small percentage of sun that trickled through the branches. He tripped over a root, falling straight--

Into Nathaniel’s arms? Anders opened his eyes, and sure enough, he was pressed chest to chest with Nathaniel, who had an unreadable expression. His face was… very close, and the realisation of just  _ how  _ close made Anders’ breath catch. 

“Thanks,” he said, more breathlessly than he would have liked. Nathaniel’s arm was a reassuring weight across the small of his back. Anders licked his lips, which were inexplicably parched. 

Nathaniel tightened his grip on Anders’ hip for half a second before releasing him to brush non-existent dirt specks from his robes. He cleared his throat and said, “Don’t worry about it. I wonder if my favourite tree’s still here.”

Anders swallowed, hoping that would fix the sudden drought in his mouth. His tongue felt like it’d been replaced with a bag of sand. When it became clear that speech was impossible, Anders simply nodded and let Nathaniel lead the way. 

The tree, apparently already gnarled during Nathaniel’s childhood, had only grown more twisted over the years. Knots riddled its bark as though something just beneath the surface was boiling, and it bore several burn marks from lightning bolts that hadn’t quite killed it. Still, it wasn’t hard to see why Nathaniel had gravitated to it as a child. The lower branches were sturdy and low enough for a child to reach, and they planned to perch upon one now. Despite its relative proximity to the ground, Nathaniel insisted on helping Anders onto it.

“It’s not even waist-height; I can get up on my own,” Anders said, though he made no move to extract his hands from Nathaniel’s light grasp. Nathaniel’s hands were calloused from his bow, and his palms were warm and dry. Anders could almost feel the heat radiating up his arms and settling deep in his spine and ribcage. 

“It’s easier this way,” Nathaniel said, tugging gently on Anders’ hands. “Just let me give you a boost.”

Anders rolled his eyes, but said, “Fine. Since your day will be ruined if you don’t help me into a tree.”

“I’ll be devastated if I don’t get to,” Nathaniel said, his tone drier than usual. He smiled as he released Anders’ hands, lacing his fingers to form a stepping stone. “Well?”

“Don’t come asking me to heal your fingers if I break them,” Anders grumbled as he stepped onto Nathaniel’s hands. He grabbed the branch, grateful he’d done enough of those outdoor exercises at the Circle to gain arm muscle before they were banned. It would’ve been terrible if he’d made a fuss about getting onto the branch himself, only to dangle hopelessly even after Nathaniel gave him a boost. Once he’d clambered onto the branch, he scooted over to make room for Nathaniel. “Will you be able to get up by yourself?”

Nathaniel placed his forearms on the branch and pulled himself up, swinging one leg over so he straddled it. 

Anders shoved Nathaniel’s shoulder playfully. “Nobody likes a show-off.”

“I have it on good authority that isn’t true,” Nathaniel said, his gaze flicking down to Anders’ lips for a second before making eye contact again. He licked his lips, looking out into the forest. “The Commander seems fond of you.”

Anders shrugged, hoping the action came off as nonchalant as opposed to _I think a bug just crawled down my robes and I’m trying to remove it without causing a scene_. He said, “I mean, she didn’t turn me over to the Templars, and she had two chances. Is that how we’re judging whether someone likes me?”

“One of the guardsmen said you two seemed close yesterday,” Nathaniel said, picking at a loose piece of bark. 

“Because we were talking and we happen to be a man and a woman? Those standards are so low, the darkspawn have probably adopted them and raised them as their own,” Anders said, forcing a laugh. Of course Nathaniel had to bring up the Commander when he was still trying to sort out his feelings for her. He cleared his throat and said, “The Commander’s a good friend--and a lovely woman--but she’s interested in someone else. Believe me, I’m not getting in the middle of that.”

“Good choice,” Nathaniel said. In the time it took him to respond, his entire posture changed. His shoulders dropped, as if he’d been bracing for a blow that never came, and the tension in his jaw eased away until it was entirely gone. “You’re a good friend, Anders.”

Anders blinked, feeling like his world had suddenly shifted by forty-five degrees. “Why do you say that?” 

“To distract you so I can push you out of the tree, obviously,” Nathaniel said with scoff. “Should I avoid complimenting you from now on?”

“If you listen to the Knight Commander, absolutely,” Anders said, perhaps a little too eager to make a joke out of the conversation. “I’m one compliment away from being possessed by a pride demon, and then it’s all downhill from there. Next thing you know, I’ll be sacrificing puppies and inviting my demon friends over for month-long parties. And you know they won’t help clean up once they’re finally done partying.”

“I thought you already did that,” Nathaniel said, the corners of his mouth twitching in an ephemeral smile. He frowned up at the rapidly darkening sky and said, “It looks like a storm’s coming. We should get out of here before it hits.”

“And here I figured you’d say being struck by lightning builds character,” Anders said, scooting to the edge of the branch and preparing to jump.

“It’s hard to build character when you’re fried to a crisp.” Nathaniel hopped down from the tree and stepped back a few inches. “Can you get down on your own?”

Anders let himself drop from the tree, stumbling forward until he gained his balance. “Look at that, I got down without maiming anybody  _ or _  using blood magic. And here the Chantry convinced me that wasn't possible.”

“A miracle. Maybe they'll name an age after you,” Nathaniel said. 

"Hmm, the 'Anders Age' does have a nice ring to it," he mused.

"I was thinking the 'Slightly Competent Mage Age,'" Nathaniel said, nudging Anders and sending his stomach flip-flopping about.  At that moment, thunder rumbled in the distance. “And that would be our cue to leave.”

They arrived at Vigil’s Keep seconds ahead of the storm, barely sprinting inside before the rain fell. Once indoors, they lingered in the foyer, just catching their breath. 

“That was fun,” Anders said, his voice still thin from exertion. 

Nathaniel looked genuinely surprised. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Anders said with a smile. “I had a good time. Thanks.”

“Then...” Nathaniel stopped, pursing his lips as though mentally weighing two choices. "Are you busy this weekend? The Commander gave me permission to visit the city for supplies, and I thought I'd invite you. If you're interested."

“I’d like that,” Anders said, and his throat felt tight even though he’d recovered from the run back. 

Nathaniel beamed, actually beamed, and Anders wondered if he’d been struck by lightning after all. He felt rooted to the spot, paralyzed by a smile that made his heart skip entire stanzas. Nathaniel said, “I need to go. See you around?”

“Yeah,” Anders said quietly. Nathaniel had already walked away, leaving Anders alone with a stomach full of sparks that he couldn’t explain.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re going to the city this weekend,” Sidona said, stepping out from behind a corner to block Anders’ path.

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” Anders said, wondering why everyone in the Wardens seemed intent on giving him a heart attack. 

“That’s an order, not a favour.” Sidona crossed her arms, the picture of business. “I need you to find out what he likes. What does he do in his spare time? Things like that.”

“And you can’t ask him because…?” 

Sidona rubbed her temples. “I’m his Commander. Can you imagine how it would look if I approached him with a clumsy flirtation? It’s taken months to earn a shred of the respect I had in Orlais, and I will not lose it because of this infatuation. I’ll make my move when the time is right, no sooner.”

“You know he’s not a darkspawn, right? All this planning and reconnaissance seems a little unnecessary. I’m just saying,” Anders said, leaning against the wall. 

“Your comments are noted,” Sidona said drily. “You’re going into the city with Nathaniel, and you will take this mission seriously. Yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, exaggerating the resignation in his tone. 

“And be thorough.”

“How thorough are we talking, exactly? Favourite food? Opinion on giant spiders? What colour smallclothes he’s wearing?”

Sidona sputtered, barely managing to say, “Don’t be inappropriate!”

“All right, you can learn that information on your own,” Anders said. When Sidona’s expression changed from “flustered” to “peeved,” he backtracked. “Fine, sorry! I’ll treat this mission like my life depends on it, promise. No funny business. Happy?”

“I suppose,” she said, though the crease between her eyebrows remained. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you, Anders.”

“And you won’t regret it,” he said, shocked by how earnest he sounded. “Promise.”

Sidona smiled, and it washed away her previous demeanour like a cool rain shower in early spring. She had a smile that could cut through frost, and it had certainly come in handy when placating Fereldan nobles. She hugged him and said, “I know I won’t. Thank you.”

The weekend arrived without fanfare, and it was only when Nathaniel knocked on his door at an unholy hour that their plans became real to Anders. 

Anders rubbed his eyes, hoping Nathaniel’s presence was an illusion created by sleep-deprivation. No such luck. He yawned and said, “The sun’s not up yet.”

Nathaniel blinked, apparently unable to understand how that might affect someone’s desire to be awake. “I thought we’d get an early start.”

“No kidding,” Anders said, muffling another yawn with the back of his hand. “Let me get dressed.”

Ten minutes later--there was no logical reason for one set of robes to have so many straps and fastenings; what were Tevinter mages thinking when the created this ensemble--he managed to put his clothes on in a way that didn’t look like he’d done so while blindfolded and drunk. He brushed his hair until it lay flat, tied it back, and opened the door again. His vision was still blurry with sleep, but Nathaniel almost looked nervous.

“You look nice,” Nathaniel said, still sounding far too awake. “You haven’t worn your robes lately.”

Anders smoothed his robes, preening a little. “Can you blame me? They don’t exactly do much for protection. At least the Warden armour has some padding. And didn’t you say something about robes making me more noticeable to Templars?”

Nathaniel looked almost abashed. “I stand by that statement. But robes suit you.”

“Thanks… I think,” Anders said. His thoughts still had to fight their way through cottony layers of sleep, and his attempts at holding a conversation broke apart like cobwebs before they even reached his tongue. 

The Warden Commander, Maker bless her, had arranged for decent transportation to Amaranthine. One of the recently recruited merchants was travelling to the closest alienage to observe the upcoming elvhen holiday with their family, and they’d eagerly accepted the financial compensation and additional protection two Wardens would bring on the road. And so Anders and Nathaniel sat amongst bags of turnips and potatoes while Lior explained the history and traditions of  _ Dirthara-Vunin _ . 

“It’s a holiday dedicated to studying the knowledge we’ve managed to recover over the years. In the days of Arlathan, it would have been a much more extensive celebration, lasting several weeks, but now we devote the night to studying what we know, to ensure that it will never be lost again,” Lior said as the cart bounced down the pitted dirt road. “It begins at sundown, and lasts until nightfall the next day. I invited the Commander to join my family in observing, but I guess she’d already made plans at the Keep.”

The cart slowed as Lior’s mule got distracted by a scraggly patch of grass just outside Amaranthine’s gates. Lior shrugged, making no effort to urge their mule further down the path. “I guess she’s tired. Are you all right walking from here?”

Nathaniel looked to Anders, who shrugged. He’d had enough time to wake up during the trip, so at least he wouldn’t be stumbling around in a tired haze. “We’ll be fine. Thank you, Lior.”

Anders grabbed his coin purse, fumbling for the words. Apparently he wasn’t as awake as he’d thought. “Do you need…?”

Lior laughed and shook their head. “Don’t trouble yourselves. The Commander’s taken care of it, and more. She treats her people right, I’ll say that much.”

They hopped out of the wagon, lingering nearby until Lior had urged their mule into the city proper. 

Nathaniel looked at Anders and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with such palpable fondness that Anders checked to see if Delilah had appeared behind him. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”

Anders yawned again, involuntarily. “Not when I can help it. The Templars didn’t believe in late mornings, and they weren’t shy about making that clear.”

Nathaniel’s smile dimmed. “I’m sorry. I--”

“But I wasn’t woken up with a bucket of cold water or a boot to the head, so it’s an improvement.” Anders stretched his arms above his head, groaning when his spine cracked. Briny air from the coast mingled with the warmer, more immediate smells of manure and early morning baking. Not the best combination of scents, perhaps, but he’d grown to associate them with the mostly pleasant memories of previous trips to the city. He yawned again. “What did you want to do here? Besides ‘get ambushed by religious zealots’ and ‘help the local drunks play pranks,’ I haven’t seen a whole lot in the way of recreation.”

“Unfortunately, the corn and wheat festival doesn’t start for three weeks,” Nathaniel said, his dry tone belied by the spark of mirth in his eyes. “But I know a great place to watch the sunrise, if you’re interested.”

The first sunbeams of the day had yet to reach the stone Chantry roof, which was unpleasantly cold. In a groggy lapse of memory, Anders had leaned back on his forearms, swearing the moment his flesh met the stone. Laughing, Nathaniel took Anders’ hands in his own and blew warmth back into them. His lips brushed Anders’ skin, and Anders could have sworn the world froze for a minute. 

Anders cleared his throat and turned to watch the sunrise. “You’re awfully familiar with the way up here.”

“I am?” Nathaniel squeezed his hands before releasing them. “I might have snuck up here once, years ago.”

“Right,  _ once _ ,” Anders said, nudging him playfully. 

Nathaniel laughed again, his cheeks and nose pink from the wind. “Well, what do you think?”

Anders tried to speak around the surge of affection that welled up in his throat, and as a result his voice shook when he said, “You definitely snuck up here more than once.”

“I meant about the sunrise.” He gestured in front of them, where streaks of orange and pink mixed and melted into the pale blue sky. 

“It’s beautiful.” In his peripheral vision, Anders noticed that Nathaniel was still looking at him.

“Isn’t it?” Nathaniel sighed, his breath clouding between them. “Sunrises have always seemed… clean to me. It isn’t affected by what happened yesterday, or what you’ll do later. It’s like an isolated moment between days, where you can breathe and gather your thoughts.”

They watched the sunrise in silence that was only broken by the first cries of street vendors hawking their wares. 

“Looks like the day’s officially started,” Anders said, standing and offering a hand to help Nathaniel. “What do you want to do now?”

Nathaniel continued holding his hand after he’d pulled himself to his feet. “Would you mind if we visited Delilah? I promised her I’d stop by soon.”

Anders stared at their hands, but made no move to separate them. Despite the chill that lingered in the air, his neck and cheeks were warm. Maker, were his palms sweating? “No, that’s… That sounds like a great idea.  Let’s do that.”

Nathaniel squeezed his hand, raised it halfway to his mouth, and promptly released it. “We should get down from here before anyone from the Chantry sees us.”

Delilah greeted them with a delighted if somewhat exhausted smile, ushering them in despite Nathaniel’s protestations that the visit could wait until she’d woken up. 

“I was already awake; this just gives me a reason to get out of bed earlier,” she said as they followed her into the cottage. “Do you want tea? The midwife won’t let me drink it anymore, but I’ll try not to get too jealous.”

“You’re due in the spring, right?” Anders said, hoping he’d remembered Nathaniel and Sidona’s conversation correctly. Ser Pounce had climbed out of the pack and begun chewing on his hair around that point, so he’d been a little distracted. 

“Have you been gossiping about me?” she said to Nathaniel, crossing her arms in feigned displeasure. Like Nathaniel, she arched her eyebrows when she smiled--maybe it was a family trait. 

Nathaniel grinned, and the familial resemblance only grew stronger. “I shouldn’t have told the entire order about that time you ate too many prawns and got sick on Bann Ulmer?”

“Not unless you wanted me to tell him,” she said, gesturing to Anders, “about the time you tried serenading a visiting noble, only to set off every mabari in the arling.”

“That was a coincidence.” In a lower voice, he added, “My singing’s improved since then.”

Delilah laughed and led them to the kitchen. An old but well-kept set of table and chairs was wedged into the corner furthest from the stove, which took up most of the available space in the room. Fresh herbs hung in front of the window to dry, filling the kitchen with clashing, savory scents. Anders couldn’t help but wonder if this was what his childhood home had been like. Trying to summon those memories was about as productive as poking a bruise, but he tried nonetheless. And as always, it only resulted in the dull ache of loss. 

“Do you need help with anything?” he said as Delilah broke off chunks from the compressed brick of tea and placed them in cups. 

“Would you mind starting the fire while I fill the kettle? Albert set it up before he left; you just need to light it.”

“I know what you’re thinking--just use the flint,” Nathaniel said after Delilah had bustled off to the well. 

“It’s faster this way,” Anders said, kneeling in front of the stove and inspecting the setup. It certainly looked flammable. “Anyway, I don’t know how.”

A pause, and then: “You don’t?”

“Well, normally the Templars would’ve taught me during all those camping trips we took. We’d learn basic survival skills, join hands and sing around the fire, but I guess I was too busy escaping the tower,” Anders said, keeping his tone light. 

The energy in the room shifted--like a spring that’d been stretched to its limit before snapping back into place. 

“I could teach you, if you wanted.” Nathaniel knelt beside him before Anders had a chance to answer. He grabbed the flint and steel and offered them to Anders, saying, “It’s a good skill to have.”

Anders took them, turning the components over in the vain hope that one of them might have directions included. “What now?”

“You strike downwards on the flint with the steel. See that black square of fabric on the kindling? Hold it above that, so the fire will actually start when the sparks hit it.” Nathaniel reached out, his hands hovering a scant centimetre away from Anders’. “Do you... want me to show you?”

Anders swallowed. “Could you?” 

Rather than relieve him of the tools, Nathaniel placed his hands over Anders’, guiding them to the proper positions and motions. Steel struck flint, and sparks flew. 

“The fire needs more air in order to spread. I assume you know how to blow,” Nathaniel said, his breath tickling Anders’ ear and sending chills down his spine.

“I managed to learn  _ some _ things without camping trips.” Anders blew on the embers, and soon enough, they grew into a fire of reasonable size. He put the flint and steel next to the stove and stood, pulling Nathaniel up with him. Without thinking, he reached out and tucked Nathaniel’s hair behind his ear. Was Nathaniel blushing? They  _ had _ just been kneeling in front of a fire. Anders clasped his hands behind his back and looked away.

Delilah returned with water and a welcome distraction. “I’m glad to see the house didn’t burn down while I was gone.”

“So little faith in me,” Anders said. 

“And Nathaniel,” she said, hanging the kettle above the fire before taking a seat at the table with them. “I have less faith in him, if it helps.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” He leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand. “So, I’m sure you have plenty more embarrassing stories about Nathaniel’s childhood.”

Nathaniel fixed Delilah with a warning glare, which she laughed off. “If I told all of them now, how would I bribe you to visit again later?”

The kettle shrieked. They chatted as the tea brewed, falling into an easy rhythm of good-natured jabs and sincere questions about each other’s well-being. Rather than fading into the background while the siblings talked, as he’d expected, both Delilah and Nathaniel took care to include him in the conversation. When the initial surprise had worn off, Anders realised that he was more comfortable than he’d been in recent memory. Even the tripwire of fight-or-flight anxiety that became an everyday mentality both in and out of the tower had gone somewhat slack. 

They spent several hours of contentment just talking, only cutting the visit short when Delilah mentioned that she still had work to do. Before they left, Delilah made Nathaniel promise to visit again when he could.

“That goes for you, too,” she said, hugging Anders tightly. “I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t visit again.”

“And miss out on more stories about Nathaniel’s childhood? I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, hesitating for a split-second before returning the hug.

“That didn’t make you uncomfortable, did it?” Nathaniel said as they meandered through the streets. “I told Delilah I’d visit soon, and she’s been wanting to meet you, but it could’ve waited.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t want to meet her. It was nice of you to let me tag along,” Anders said, blinking as he fully processed what Nathaniel had said. “Wait, you’ve been telling her about me?”

Nathaniel shrugged, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “She asks how the other Wardens are. She says your cat sounds adorable.”

“I knew there was a reason I trusted her. Well, that and she helped you realise your father was an ass.” Anders bumped into Nathaniel, who’d stopped dead in his tracks and was staring at him with a tight, inscrutable expression. “Should I not have said that? I--”

“No, you’re right. He… he was an ass.” Bit by bit, Nathaniel’s face brightened until he was smiling. “It feels good to say it.”

A woman ran up to them, clearly agitated. “You’re Grey Wardens, yeah?”

Anders glanced at Nathaniel, who frowned and shrugged. Neither of them were wearing the uniform, so how had she known?

“I seen you walking with the Commander before,” she continued, unperturbed by their silence. “Can you get your comrade out of my inn? He’s making a ruckus, and it’s scaring away the  _ paying _ customers.”

“Lead the way,” Anders said after a second silent conversation with Nathaniel. 

The Squeeze Inn was wedged between an abandoned warehouse and a cobbler’s shop. By the look of it, the inn connected to the other two buildings and utilized their existing exterior walls. Anders’ hunch was proven correct when they entered; the east and western walls were constructed of mismatched stones and showed signs of weathering from years in the elements. 

“He’s over there, insisting Wardens drink free. I’d kick him out myself, but I don’t need your Commander coming after me for roughing up a recruit,” she said, crossing her muscular arms and indicating the man’s location with a quick jerk of her chin. Anders had no trouble believing that she’d come out ahead in an altercation with the unruly customer. 

The “recruit” leaned against the bar, pouring equal amounts of beer into his mouth and down his front while he spoke at a bored woman. “Not many people know this, but the darkspawn are deathly afraid of a rooster’s crow. That’s why we used to ride griffons back in the day, see, because they’re part rooster. The darkspawn’d hear our mighty steeds crow, and they’d head for the hills.”

“Right,” his conversational hostage said, inspecting a water ring on the bar. “I thought griffons were part eagle.”

“Does it matter? A bird is a bird is a bird.” Apparently sensing that this topic wasn’t earning him the adoration he sought, he said, “I got a lot of battle scars, you know. From fighting darkspawn. Maybe we could go up to my room, and I could show them to you.”

“Sorry, I’ve got plans with my wife,” she said. “But it looks like these two want to talk to you. Good luck, fellas.”

“So, you’re a Grey Warden?” Anders said after she’d walked away. “You must be a new recruit.”

“A very new recruit,” Nathaniel added. “I expect to see you at training tomorrow morning. We start bright and early--before the roosters wake up.”

The man looked like he’d swallowed gravel. He sighed. “Fine, fine. I’m not a Warden. Save the fake surprise for your birthday party. But I swear, I’m on a real mission here.”

“To spill as much ale down your front as possible?” Nathaniel said, wrinkling his nose. 

“I’m part of the city guard. The constable asked me to check this place out, said there’d been rumours that a smuggling gang operates out of this here inn. So I went undercover to investigate,” he said, spilling the dregs of his ale as he gesticulated. 

“Have you found anything?” Anders said, morbidly curious. 

“Besides piss-poor ale and even worse company? No. I’m starting to think he sent me on a wild goose chase. ‘See how long the new guy will hunt for clues before he cottons on,’ that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “At least I’m getting free drinks.”

“Actually,” Nathaniel said, taking a breath through his teeth. “The innkeeper wants you kicked out because of that. If you want to continue your investigation, you might consider paying for your drinks.”

“It’s just a day of bad news, isn’t it? Guess I’ll report back to Constable Aidan,” the guard said, pushing himself away from the bar. He overshot, fell forward, and landed on the floor with a reverberating crack. When the dust settled, a large square hole existed where the guard should have been laying.

Anders peered down, just barely able to make out the guard’s prone form in the dark cellar. “Do you need healing?”

The guard sprang to his feet, coughing. “Are you kidding? The lead was under my feet this entire time! I puked on that door and never noticed it!”

“What a charming image,” Nathaniel said drily. “Do you want help investigating?”

“And share the credit for solving my first case? No, thanks!” The guard’s voice echoed as he raced down the passage, making enough noise that any smugglers in the cellar would think he’d brought the entire city guard. 

“Good luck, you strange man,” Anders said, blinking the dust out of his eyes. “We should probably leave soon if we’re walking back. I don’t know about you, but I try to avoid trekking through forests at night.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat with so much force that Anders wondered if his airway was swelling shut. “Actually, the Commander gave me leave for the whole weekend. I thought we might stay the night here, if you don’t mind. Well, maybe not  _ here _ .”

“Really? It has a certain charm, I think,” he said as Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “It would be nice to get some sleep before walking back.”

After pooling their coin and calculating the cost of a night at The Crown and Lion, Nathaniel concluded that perhaps his initial judgement of the Squeeze Inn was too harsh. Never one to look a cheap room in the scuffed floorboards and persistent smell of mildew, Anders agreed. 

“I can bring another blanket if one of you’s sleeping on the floor,” the innkeeper, Melina, said as she unlocked the bedroom. “But good luck finding enough space to do that.”

She had a point. The bed occupied most of the available space in the already cramped room, leaving barely enough room to stand on the two free sides. A person could ostensibly sleep on the floor, provided they didn’t mind lying on their side and weren’t inclined to move much. It was all too easy to imagine the stains on the wooden bed frame were the blood of hapless guests who entered the room too quickly and took a literal dive into bed. 

“It looks . . . cozy?” Anders said as they squeezed into the room and nudged the door shut behind them.  He poked the mattress experimentally.  “The bed’s not too bad, actually.”  

“Mind if I take this side?” Nathaniel said, gesturing to the half closest to the wall. 

“And miss waking up to the brick’s first rays of light? And that beautiful scenery?” Anders said, clutching his chest. He dropped the act in a second and added, “Go ahead.”

They unlaced their boots in silence that hung comfortably around them like a well-worn quilt. He enjoyed talking, but it was a pleasant surprise to find someone who he could  _ exist  _ with, without forcing both parties into tedious conversations. Come to think of it, he felt similarly around Sidona. Shit, he was supposed to do “reconnaissance” for her, wasn’t he?

“So,” he said, stopping when he realised he hadn’t thought of a question. 

Nathaniel looked at him expectantly.

Anders tore his eyes away from Nathaniel’s, wishing the room had some decorations he could pretend to study. “How do you feel about the beach?”

“From a tactical standpoint?”

“No, more as… a holiday spot,” he said, dragging his gaze back to Nathaniel’s face. 

Nathaniel’s expression grew thoughtful. “It depends on the company. With the right person, it could be fun. Why?”

“Just curious,” Anders said, his pulse drowning out the sound of his voice as Nathaniel’s eyes lit up. His smile warmed the room, buzzing through Anders’ brain like liquor before settling in his stomach. 

“I had a great time today,” Nathaniel said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he scooted closer until their thighs were touching. 

It felt like Nathaniel had used up the last of the oxygen in the room when he spoke. Anders’ mouth went dry as Nathaniel leaned over until their lips almost touched, and it felt like a punch to the gut when he backed away, hands clasped in his lap. Before he could overthink his actions, Anders caressed Nathaniel’s face and kissed him. 

Like fixing a crooked painting, the world seemed to shift in a manner both subtle and profoundly right. Anders made a surprised noise and pulled away. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Nathaniel’s cheeks, already flushed, reddened further. 

“What? No,” Anders said, taking Nathaniel’s hand and squeezing it. This was… definitely not the type of reconnaissance Sidona had in mind, but his guilt floated just under the surface of a wave of unexpected tenderness he’d half-hoped he wouldn’t feel again after escaping the tower. Would it be so bad if he let himself enjoy this, just for one weekend?

Nathaniel relaxed, leaning over for another quick kiss. “As fun as it’d be to kiss you all night, we should probably get some sleep.”

“Good point,” Anders said, taking a moment to appreciate the view as Nathaniel removed his shirt before focusing on his own clothes. With minimal fumbling, he removed the more ornamental components of his robes, leaving him in what would function as a conspicuously fancy nightdress. “Though… maybe one more kiss? To keep the nightmares away.”

“I can’t argue with that logic,” Nathaniel said, placing a hand on Anders’ shoulder. 

When they kissed, it felt like the hazy blue space between dreams and the waking world--soft, and full of possibilities. Nathaniel wrapped his other arm around Anders’ waist, and he could almost believe their kiss was the beginning of something he’d been convinced was impossible. 

As they fell asleep embracing each other, Anders wondered how his heart could feel so heavy and so light simultaneously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy heck. I'm so sorry that:  
> A) it's taken me so long to update this and  
> B) somehow I managed to mark this work as complete when it only had the first chapter? I don't know what I was doing when that happened, but there's definitely more of this fic coming. 
> 
> And a huge thanks to snitewing for the lovely comment! :)
> 
> ETA: The holiday Lior describes is non-canonical and based on Shavuot... which is a good indication of how long it's taken me to write this chapter. @_@


	3. Chapter 3

Sidona was wearing a hole in the throne room’s carpet when they returned. Her long, dark hair was loose from its usual high ponytail, and her eyes flickered between every door in the room in a way a little too reminiscent of the mages in Kinloch Hold. She stopped pacing when they approached, but looked tenser than before. There was no way she could’ve learned that they kissed… right?

“Nathaniel,” she said, making a momentary attempt at smiling. “Anders. Would you wait here a moment?”

“Is--” Anders began to ask, but she was long-gone, disappeared down one of the nearby corridors. “All right. I wonder what that was about.”

Nathaniel frowned and shrugged. He reached over and twined his fingers through Anders’ like it was a routine part of their lives--like he wanted it to be. It was painful how much Anders hoped that was true. 

Sidona returned, followed by a Dalish elf whose expression made Kal’Hirol seem downright welcoming. Sidona, on the other hand, looked like she’d converted all her nervous energy into a genuine smile. “Gentlemen, this is Velanna--our newest Warden.”

Anders let go of Nathaniel’s hand, extending his newly freed hand to shake Velanna’s. “Another mage? I’m charmed.” 

Velanna crossed her arms and said, “Did it take you all day to come up with that?”

“What, you think I should’ve been spending that time glowering at strangers?” Anders raised his hands in a placating gesture when Sidona took a break from smiling to glare at him. “Fine, sorry. I’ll play nice. Looks like one of us has to.”

“I’ll believe  _ that _ when I see it,” Sidona said, glaring for another second before smiling at Velanna. “You learn to tune him out eventually.”

Nathaniel snorted, the first sound he’d made since they entered Vigil’s Keep. “Did you take your Joining already?”

Velanna kept her arms crossed, but her tone was hesitantly conversational when she said, “I just woke up from it. I suppose you have some witty comment to make about that?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Nathaniel said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I just wondered why the Commander would bother lying to you when you’re already stuck with us.”

“Just because you don’t know how to tune him out does not mean I’m lying,” Sidona said primly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned back to Velanna. “But you must be tired, still! Would you like me to show you to your room?”

“Please,” Velanna said, sounding a little less prickly--the thorns were still there, but a flower had bloomed in the centre of them.

“It’s right this way,” Sidona said, leading her to the left corridor. She paused in front of the doorway and pointed at Anders. “You--wait here. I need to speak with you.”

Nathaniel smiled and squeezed Anders’ shoulder, sending sparks down his spine. “Something tells me she’s not appointing you to the welcome committee.”

He leaned forward, his eyes flicking down to Anders’ lips. Before Anders could close the space between them, the door slammed open. 

Anders spun around, his face burning. “All done tucking in our charming new recruit, then?”

Sidona smiled as though she hadn’t heard him and said, “Nathaniel, would you give us a moment?”

“Of course. It’s about time for me to check that my arrows are still… sharp, anyway,” Nathaniel said. He walked several steps in the opposite direction of his room,then stopped and fixed them with a long, perplexed stare before continuing towards the armoury. 

“Do you think he’s getting suspicious?” Sidona stage-whispered as the door closed behind Nathaniel. 

“I think he has basic powers of observation,” Anders said. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he planned what he’d say next. This was going to hurt; that much was inevitable. But if he headed it off, braced himself by saying the right words, maybe it’d be the pain of a stubbed toe instead of the hollow ache of a forgotten dream. “Have you considered taking a holiday? To the beach, maybe?”

Sidona’s tone was flat and grey as stone when she said, “Anders, I’m flattered, but--”

“Not with me! With  _ him _ ,” he said, jerking his head in Nathaniel’s direction. “I have it on good authority he’d enjoy it. And you should go soon, before it gets cold again.”

“I suppose you have a point.” She dragged her words out, weighing each on her tongue before deciding what would follow it. She pursed her lips, nodded, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tentatively tender embrace. Her voice was warm and tickly in his ear when she said, “Thank you, Anders.”

“Just make sure you send Ser Pounce and me invitations to the wedding,” Anders said, his tone airy while his heart sank. Sidona smelled like salt and black tea, and seemed to constantly carry residual heat from her favoured fire spells. 

She swatted him on the arm playfully. “And risk him eating all the caviar? Absolutely not.”

“You’re missing out. He’d make an adorable ring-bearer, and you know it.” He stepped away once she loosened her grip. With a smile that felt too tight for his face, he said, “Don’t you have someone to woo?”

Sidona glanced in the direction of the bedrooms before shaking her head and turning towards the armoury. “Yes, of course. Wish me luck!”

Anders waved to her back, trying and failing to convince himself that this was for the best.

#

The Keep’s ramparts were warm from the afternoon sun, and just secluded enough that Anders felt safe sneaking up there once Sidona and Nathaniel had disappeared over the horizon. After briefly considering sampling a bit of Oghren’s brew, he'd decided to play it safe and pilfer some wine from the cellars. His eyes still burned at the memory of its smell, and any interest he had in trying the drink waned after he watched a drop of it dissolve a chunk of the floor. 

“I thought there was a quota on drunkards in the Grey Wardens.”

Velanna stood behind him, glowering in the midday sun. 

Anders raised a bottle of Orlesian dessert wine with an easy, sloppy smile. “Grey Wardens take all types. Hey, do you think that’s how they get recruits? Give ‘em a few drinks, butter ‘em up, and then, ‘Oh, whoops, you agreed to be a Warden last night, can’t take that back.’”

“It’s impossible to speak with you.” She spat the words out like they were gristle. 

“You’re not the first to say that,” he said, his stomach lurching. He’d come up here to  _ stop _ thinking about Nathaniel, dammit. “Probably won’t be the last. Did you come here for a reason, or…?”

“You’re the reason Sidona went off with him, aren’t you?” Velanna’s scowl deepened as Anders took another drink. 

“‘Sidona’? That’s awfully familiar for someone you just met.” Apparently his self-preservation instinct was the first thing to go when he drank, because he added, “Take a seat. Looking up at you’s making my neck hurt.”

Velanna huffed, but crouched next to him, eyeing the wine with a mix of distaste and interest. 

“So, you’re sweet on the Commander,” Anders said after a long moment. 

“I’m not ‘sweet’ on anybody, least of all Sidona,” she said, snatching the wine from his loose grasp and taking a sip. She pursed her lips and took a deeper drink. “This tastes like sugared death. It’s vile.”

“But it gets you drunk and won’t burn off your eyebrows. And  _ I _ like how it tastes.” He took the bottle back. “Don’t change the subject. You like her. You look at her like you hate her less than you hate most people. And things.”

“Such a ringing endorsement.” Velanna gestured for him to hand over the wine and took a drink before saying, “And what if I do like her?”

“Then… I’d apologize. I didn’t think anybody else would get caught up in this mess.” 

“Is that what we’re calling your love life now?” She snorted as he attempted to school his expression into one of neutral curiosity. “Don’t play dumb. You and him--the noble. Nathaniel.”

“Don’t remind me.” Anders rubbed his temples, where a headache was beginning to build. It was a testament to the unfairness of life that he could skip being drunk and go straight to the “headache and regret” portion of the day. 

“Did you have a reason for setting them up together, or was idiocy your only motivation?”

“You’re not much fun to drink with,” he whined. “For your information, she’d been interested in him before you joined the Wardens. I was helping them get together.”

“Remind me not to ask you for help wooing someone,” Velanna said. “Why did you set her up with him?”

Anders shrugged. “Because she asked me to? Because I’m an idiot? Because they deserve to be happy? Take your pick.”

“What, we don’t deserve happiness?” Her tone was still biting--maybe she always sounded hostile the way some people always sounded sarcastic--but now there was a softer, sadder undertone. 

“You  _ have _ heard what the Chantry says about us, right?” He took a long swig from the bottle. Maybe Velanna was right. The wine fell just on the wrong side of sickeningly sweet. “Happiness doesn’t last for us. You’ve learned that by now, right? We get a few good years if we’re lucky, and then it’s gone. Like it never happened. Like the person you love wasn’t torn away from you.”

“Speaking from experience here?” Velanna’s expression softened infinitesimally before she glared at him again. “Don’t expect me to join your pity party. This is all your fault.”

Anders buried his face in his hands. “Has anyone told you that if you don’t have something nice to say, you shouldn’t speak? Or were you too busy insulting them to hear it?”

“I’m not interested in being--oh, look. They’re back,” Velanna pushed herself up to her feet, nearly spilling the wine in the process.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I hope things work out with you two,” Anders drank the remains of the opened bottle and stood, an act that mainly consisted of stumbling into the wall behind him and the parapet in front until he was able to stabilize himself. 

Velanna scoffed, but as she walked away, she said, “Thanks. I hope you can sort things out with him so I can woo Sidona in peace.”

Anders snorted, gathered the bottles, and stumbled back into the Keep. The longer he put off seeing Nathaniel, the more painful their inevitable discussion would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday the 13th! Sorry it took me so long to update this. I'd say it won't happen again, but... it'll probably happen again. 
> 
> If there was ever a character "I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual" applied to, it's Velanna.


End file.
